What To Do When The World Ends And You're Suddenly A Dad of Four
by Mashpotatoe Queen
Summary: ("I think I've been here before… when I was a kid. I remember holding onto this rail. I was following it- I remember being scared.") Or: Tony, in the immediate aftermath of the Avengers' fall at the hands of Ultron, dealing with grief, guilt, and four tiny humans who want to go home.


**Trying to get back into writing these characters. We'll see how it goes.**

**Also, the more I think about Next Avengers!Thor, the angrier I get. You'll see this in my writing.**

**...**

"Tony? What's- What's going on?"

Tony breathes, breathes. Pym is shifting in his arms, wiggling, squirming. He's making little gurgling noises into his neck and the baby is so _small, _only a few months old, and none of this is fair.

One thing at a time. There is a tiny voice speaking behind him, and when he turns he can see James big blue eyes filling with tears.

The kid has a white knuckle grip on the railing, the coat Tony had quickly thrusted on him at least two sizes two big and hanging off his shoulders. His bright red hair is all over the place and there are small red burns on his hands and cheeks, from where Iron Man had grabbed him from the flames of the burning Avenger's tower.

Torunn is behind him. She is quiet, but she is always quiet, has been quiet ever since Thor had dropped her off on Earth with nothing but a flourish and a few spouted words of nonsense about her needing to 'learn to be human,' even as he also handed over a massive sword wider than all their heads.

_She's your daughter, Thor, _Tony had wanted to yell, because even though the girl was bigger than the average human toddler she was still so small _, it's your job to teach her these things, not ours- _

_She's your daughter, Thor, _Tony had wanted to yell, _that doesn't mean she is going to make your mistakes, harbour your own failures, that doesn't mean she is going to be y o u- _

_She's your daughter, Thor, _Tony had wanted to yell, _how on earth could you ever give her up? _

The girl couldn't have been more than two years old, mentally- who knew about physically, Asgardian aging was weird- when she came to them almost three years ago. And ever since she was dropped off on their doorstep she has not cried, she has not laughed, and she has not yelled.

She has just been quiet, and watching, and sometimes late at night she sneaks out of her room to watch the stars.

Now she watches him, cut off from the stars in an underground bunker while he works on booting up the systems, getting everything in order, locking Ultron out of every mainframe so that if the robot starts searching there would be nothing to be found.

She watches him, her own face red from burns and her own arms full of young Azari, who has been drooling on her shoulder in the dead-to-the-world sleep of two year olds everywhere, completely conked out from the long plane ride.

The long, turbulent plane ride, if he's going to be honest. With one of their main engines down it had been everything he could do to keep the plane from falling apart before it reached their destination.

Their destination. Gods. When he was forming this place, he had never thought-

Well.

It was for emergencies only, a safe haven completely off the grid, just in case the Avengers needed to camp out for a while and regroup. Tony's been working on it for years, syphoning off supplies and goods, loading up on entertainment, storing up on clothing and medical supplies and chemicals and tools for engineering. There are seeds to be planted, a functioning ecosystem all set up in a dome at the North Pole, and all Tony needs to do is turn it on.

For emergencies only. Well then, here's his emergency.

(Ultron had been for emergencies only, too, had been a creation designed so that they could all retire, take a step back just a little. So that they could all be _safe _.)

(Look how that turned out.)

James is still staring up at him, still trembling, bare feet splayed on cold metal floors. Tony realizes, angrily, tiredly, that he doesn't have anything here for the kids, no clothes, no toys, no baby formula, no _nothing. _

He should have been more prepared. He should have been smarter, better, _stronger. _

There are four kids standing here with him on this elevated platform, not five. And gods, gods, he should have been _faster. _

The Avengers Tower had been on fire, his Iron Man armour blaring warnings all around because everything was broken and malfunctioning, he had three kids in his arms and Torunn following closely beside him, and just as he was approaching Clint's section of the building, where small, small Francis was sleeping in Hawkeye pajamas because Barton found it _hilarious- _the whole thing _exploded. _

They had all been blasted backwards, flames licking at their skin no matter how Tony tried to shield them. The explosion had knocked them off their feet, and there was no way in hell that anyone could survive that, much less a small child, and the sound of fighting was drawing near and he may have been too slow to save Francis but he still had a chance to save the small humans clinging to him and watching the fire grow.

So they had turned tail, and they had run.

God, what is he going to tell _Clint. _

And now James is looking up at him, eyes wet with tears, and the guilt is eating him up alive. It's crawling up his throat and knocking out all the air, and it's his fault that they're in this mess, it's all his fault, and-

Tony breathes, breathes. He can deal with his crushing existential guilt later. For now, he has the children to deal with.

He crouches, ignoring how Pym has grabbed a fistful of his hair and is tugging jerkily. James may have Natasha's red hair and slim frame, but his eyes are all Steve's, and something in Tony's chest clenches so tight it _hurts. _

It should have been someone else, standing here. Anyone else. Someone who was an actual parent, someone who actually knew what they were doing, who could take care of these kids and soothe their aches and pains in the ways that they deserve. Someone who didn't build the machine that's trying to destroy the world.

Someone who_ deserves _to live.

"T-Tony? I'm- I'm scared."

_Focus, Stark. _

"Hey," he says, and his throat is so dry he has to take a second to clear it before he can try again, "Hey, don't be scared. You're going to be okay, James, I- I promise."

But James just shakes his head, gripping tighter on the metal railing.

"I want my dad. I- I want my mom. Tony- I don't like it here. I wanna go _home-" _

_Your home is burning to the ground _Tony thinks, but he doesn't say it.

"Me too, kid, me too. But we just have to… camp out here for a little while, okay? Mommy and Daddy are just dealing with a bad guy. You'll see them soon."

_Please don't let that be a bold faced lie. Please. Please. e- _

Tony is so not made for this.

"You guys want a sleepover? I'm thinking its a sleepover kind of night. I'm pretty sure I can find a bag of marshmallows around her somewhere…"

The children all perk up a little at that, Azari even snorting himself half-awake and looking at him with bright luminescent eyes, slurring "Marsmawows?" with a hopeful grin.

_Great job, Tony, _he thinks, _five minutes in and you're already resorting to bribery. _

"Yes," he says, "marshmallows. Everyone follow me, okay? And keep a tight grip on the rail. We don't want anyone to fall."

They camp out in Tony's bungalow, three kids splayed out on the bed while Pym sleeps away on a makeshift pillow and blanket bed on the floor. Tony stays awake, watching the ceiling, praying that at any moment he would hear the sounds of the quinjet, hear Natasha's warm exhausted voice giving the all clear, T'Challa's soft disapproving tone about feeding his son so many sweets before bed, or even Hank's annoyingly poignant remarks about how the dome could be improved.

Tony stays awake, wishing for his teammates, for his friends, but also fearing for the monsters that creep in the dark night, fearing Ultron will find them, will burn them to the ground here, too, and every unsuspecting noise has his heart pounding in his throat.

Tony stays awake, thinking about Francis, about that tiny boy with his shock of white hair and massive smirk, who ate dinosaur chicken nuggets like it was a personal challenge to consume as much as possible as quickly as possible, who snorted at fart jokes like they were the funniest thing to ever exist.

He stays awake, and the guilt and the grief and the fear tear at him like a knife.

Later, he will have to find a way to produce baby formula for a crying, hungry Pym, will have to cut clothes meant for older people and reconfigure them to work for small children, will have to start the ecosystem process within the dome so that he can plant crops, will have to figure out ways to keep tabs on the outside world.

Later, he will have to figure out ways to parent, to deal with grieving children who can't figure out why their parents aren't coming home, will have to train them, raise them, see them grow and feel his hope grow with them.

Later, Tony will have to learn to live with a grief that does not stop, a guilt that hangs from his shoulders heavier than anything he has ever known. Will have to deal with a lifetime of fighting that does not stop and will always ache.

Later.

But tonight, tonight Tony lays on his back and watches the ceiling of his bungalow, listens to the soft whistling breaths of the young sleeping children all around him. Tonight, Tony stays awake and keeps watch, keeps guard, and swears to himself that no harm shall come to these kids, not while he can help it, not while he's here.

Tony stays awake, a guard, a sentinel, a soldier. Tony stays awake, and he is a knight, fighting for the rising dawn, fighting to keep the lights in his dark kingdom burning, fighting to keep alive.

Tony is a knight, and he breathes, and he breathes, and he breathes, and he does his duty well.

**...**

**Hope you enjoyed!**


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